His response was as unexpected as the kiss had been. With a growl, Lucas dropped her to her feet and backed away as if she were a live wire. And she felt like one, too.
Lucas bent, dropping his hands to his knees. He didn’t look happy and he didn’t speak. Sid waited half a minute but couldn’t take the silence.
“Are you all right?”
“Other than Mother Nature trying to kick my ass and you trying to fry my brain, I’m doing great.”
Her trying to do what?
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said, panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Sid fought between breaking his nose and breaking into a run. But she wasn’t sixteen this time. And there was no reason they shouldn’t be doing what they were just doing.
“Why shouldn’t we be doing this? What the hell is your problem?”
“I crossed a line. It won’t happen again.”
Sid’s hands balled into fists. “What line? Stop acting like we did something wrong, damn it. That was the best kiss I’ve ever had, and you’re ruining it.”
“I’m trying not to ruin you!” he yelled, standing tall again. Tall and hot with his hair a mess from where she’d been grabbing it seconds before.
She couldn’t go back now. Couldn’t finally get a taste of him and then have it taken away. “I’m not some storybook virgin here. In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.”
“You should have been.” Since when did guys argue with women not to have sex with them? And no matter what he claimed, that’s where they were headed with that kiss. Maybe what the other guys had said was true. Maybe she really did suck at this.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, clutching the sides of her running shorts.
Lucas ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one making a mess of this.” Stopping, he gripped the top of her arms until she met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Dark curls swirled around her face. “I was bad at it, wasn’t I?” Shoving off his hands, she kicked the sand. “Goddamn it, I knew it.”
“You knew what?”
“That I can’t do this. I can’t even kiss a guy right.”
“You can’t … What are you talking about?” But before he finished the question, Sid ran down the beach toward her truck. She needed to get away.
“Sid!” he called, chasing behind her. “Where are you going?” She reached her truck and was halfway in the cab before he caught up. His left arm blocked her from closing the door. “You did nothing wrong back there.”
“Let me go.” She pulled the door but he held it open.
“Not until you listen to me.” He trapped her on the seat, her knees pressed against his chest. “There was nothing wrong with how you kissed me. That’s the problem.”
“How is that a problem?” She wrapped her hand around the wheel and bit her lip to keep it from quivering. “You’re not making any sense.”
Lucas ran a hand over his face. “Sid, another few seconds and we both would have been back on the beach getting sand in places neither of us would enjoy. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed how we got it there.”
“So I’m such a good kisser you were ready to have sex, but that’s a bad thing.” This never happened in her fantasies. He was supposed to be ripping her clothes off, not ordering her to keep them on. “What am I missing here?”
“My time on Anchor is temporary,” he said, as if that were supposed to be a news flash.
Sid rolled her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He brushed the hair from her face. “Anything we started now would have to be casual and temporary. And you’re neither of those things.”
“I am so,” she said, with a kick to his ribs. She could do casual. “Try me.”
Not the two words he expected if the look on his face was any indication. She could see it in his eyes. Temptation warred with whatever fucked-up gentlemanly delusions were going around that damn head of his.
“No,” he said, moving away from the truck.
She hit the ground behind him. “No? Just like that? Why do you get to decide? I get a vote, and I say yes.”
“No,” he said again, stopping when she pulled on his arm. “I won’t start something I can’t finish.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper as he wiped sand from her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve screwed up enough lives lately. I won’t screw up yours, too.”
His touch was so gentle and the regret in his eyes so real, Sid didn’t have the heart to keep arguing. Instead, she watched him walk away. He could have his upstanding ways today. But she’d change his mind. One way or another, Lucas Dempsey would have a spiritual moment in the bed of Sid Navarro. He could bet on that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time Lucas reached the house, he’d berated himself for being an idiot, vowed never to touch Sid Navarro again, and prayed his father would recover faster than expected. The last reminded him of his parents’ imminent arrival. At least he hadn’t had time to mess up the house, though there were dishes in the sink he needed to load into the dishwasher.
He’d driven his mom’s minivan up to the beach and the ride back felt like torture. Between fighting a hard- on, thanks to Sid’s scent and taste lingering in his brain, and the sand shot up his shorts by what he now thought of as the sanity-restoring wave, sitting comfortably in a bucket seat was not happening.
Cutting the engine, Lucas climbed from the van with one goal in mind: a long, cold shower followed by a hot, rich cup of coffee. Thank God his mother kept the good stuff on hand. As he approached the porch, he spotted a man and woman occupying his mother’s Adirondack chairs. The faces looked vaguely familiar so he knew they had to be islanders.
“Lucas Dempsey, I need to hire you,” said the man sitting to the left of the front door. Lucas stopped at the bottom step to buy time. Putting a name to the faces took a second.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ledbetter?”
“Mr. and Ms.,” corrected the woman. “I’m not married to this SOB anymore.”
Lucas didn’t have an answer for that. Ms. Ledbetter didn’t sound like she needed condolences, but offering congratulations seemed rude since the SOB in question was present.
“What is this about?” he asked. Based on the greeting, this wasn’t a social call.
“Gladys cut my tree and I’m going to sue her for it.” Franklin Ledbetter crossed his arms but remained seated. No neck could be seen between his large, bald head and thick, rounded shoulders. Bushy black brows anchored his forehead like one long hedgerow, and his bottom lip protruded in a pout that should only appear on someone four years old or younger.
Gladys occupied the chair on the other side of the front door. Flat brown hair, parted down the middle, flowed over her shoulders while blue eyes carried a look of amusement. If the threat of being sued by the man four feet to her right was keeping her up nights, she hid it well.
“I only cut the branches on my side of the tree. I was perfectly within my rights.”
Unless they had joint custody of a tree, this made no sense. Lucas took a step up, making the sand in his shorts slip higher between two parts of his anatomy that had experienced enough strain for one day.
Then Mr. Ledbetter’s words of greeting sunk in. “Did you say you want to hire me?”
“That’s right.” The older man pointed to his left. “I told her I’d cut that tree when I got around to it and she went and did it on her own.”
“Please,” Gladys said. “I’ve heard ‘when I get around to it’ for thirty-five years and you haven’t ever gotten around to anything in your life except a fishing pole and a beer.”
“You see what I’m dealing with here?” He went into full pout again. From the look of his gut and the tackle
